Running to Stand Still
by rebelxxwaltz
Summary: She represents everything he doesn't think he deserves. He is the only one who really understands her pain. Will they bring each other more misery, or is there hope for something sweeter? Roy/Winry. Eventual M rating. Chapter 2 is up!
1. Alive

Hello! This is my new Fullmetal Alchemist fic, the first I've written in this fandom. Please be gentle with me! The basic reason that I decided to write this story stemmed from my surprise at how few Roy/Winry fics are out there.

Don't get me wrong- I like Roy with Riza. It makes a lot of sense, and seems more likely from a canon point of view. But in terms of dynamics in the series (as opposed to the manga, which I can't vouch for), there seems to be too much tension in the air between Roy and Winry to disregard the idea completely. I guess you could say this is my way of exploring their... issues. Isn't that what fan fiction is for? : )

This takes place in the series/movie universe, and doesn't necessarily jive with the manga. I read 9 or 10 volumes of the manga, but that was a few years ago. I'll be sticking to the world as portrayed in the anime for the purpose of this story. Also, Winry's age may be off by a year or two. I tried to be accurate, but I wasn't sure if she was Ed's age or a year or two older. Please don't yell at me if I got it wrong! Haha.

The name of this story is taken from a song by U2. I don't own the song, I don't own U2, and I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist. If I owned any of these things, I could probably afford to hire a scriptwriter to write this fan fiction for me. But where's the fun in that?

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Running to Stand Still**

**Chapter 1: Alive**

Springtime in Resembool was a riot of nature. Birds sang, flowers bloomed, clouds drifted peacefully across the endless blue sky. The town was known for the beauty of its rolling green fields and hillsides, and most people who visited were even more eager to find some peace and quiet than the actual residents.

Those who passed through Resembool generally didn't make a point of visiting the graveyard. In fact, few people outside the tiny country town even knew it was there, and even the townspeople scarcely realized the tragedy and significance the place represented in the grand scheme of the nation's recent upheaval. Humanity had certainly perfected the art form of being happily oblivious...

Winry Rockbell sat quietly on a hillside directly overlooking the small, unremarkable collection of graves. The sun was low in the western sky, casting an orange glow over the hilltops and purple shadows into the valleys below. It was the anniversary of her parents' death. How long had it been now? twelve years? She had been eight years old when they died...

The terror and pain she had felt at that time were no longer fresh, though the memory itself was clear enough. She could actually smile now when visiting their graves, as she was sure they would wish her to do. Sometimes she felt guilty for being able to do it. Should the grief be allowed to fade, even after such a time? She wasn't sure, but she usually felt at peace now when she thought of them. That peace, however, was not complete. A few feet away from her parents' graves was another, the resting place of Trisha Elric.

A lump still formed in Winry's throat when her glance fell upon the headstone of the long-dead woman. It wasn't because of her death, sad though it had been. It as because of the disappearance from this world of Edward and Alphonse Elric- Trisha's sons.

Winry sighed, blonde hair fluttering around her face in the evening breeze. It had been two years. She knew in her heart that Ed and Al weren't dead, and that they would never have graves in any cemetery in this world for her to mourn at. She didn't _want_ to mourn them. She was glad they were still living their lives somewhere, that they were together. But that didn't stop her from feeling the loss.

It was maddening sometimes; almost as though they had been erased from existence and the memories she carried were somehow false. Smiling slightly as she rose to her feet, Winry realized that she now understood to some extent how Al had felt in his metal shell when he feared the origin and veracity of his own memories. But she was made of flesh and blood, and her faith in her friends was still strong. Even if the Elrics had left this world, at least she could keep them alive in her heart and hope that they wouldn't forget her, either.

Walking slowly down the hillside, Winry prepared to say goodnight to her parents and head back to the house where Grandma Pinako was waiting. The old woman certainly didn't like it when Winry spent so much time at the graveyard, especially when it started getting dark out. As she leaned down to lay a bouquet of wildflowers at the foot of the graves, she caught sight of a dark figure out of the corner of eye. Was Pinako...? No. Her Grandmother knew where she was, and wouldn't come searching for her all the way out here even at this late hour. Winry straightened, turning quickly to meet the approaching visitor face to face.

The figure stopped suddenly, as if not expecting to find her there. Winry couldn't quite see the expression on the man's face with the setting sun blazing behind him, but she knew who he was just the same.

Immediately recognizable even from his silhouette alone, Winry would know Roy Mustang anywhere- from the dark locks of hair laying across that imposing eye patch all the way down to the shiny tips of his military issue boots. Winry frowned slightly. She knew why he would be here, of course she did, but that didn't make it any easier knowing that she was standing at her parents' graves at the same time as the man who had murdered them.

Winry was still as he took another step forward, bringing his face into clearer view. He looked pensive, mouth turned down slightly. His gaze was initially drawn to the headstones beside her, one good eye rising up to meet her shellshocked glance with some amount of effort. Winry could sense a certain measure of pain in the man's expression, and maybe just a dash of determination.

"Miss Rockbell. I didn't expect to meet you here at this late hour. I'm sorry if I've disturbed you." His attention shifted back to the graves of her parents. Winry shook her head to clear her thoughts, no longer frozen to the spot by the intensity of his expression.

"It's alright. I guess I can understand why you would come here. I was just leaving anyway." Saying a silent farewell to her parents, Winry turned to go. She barely heard his reply, it was spoken with such unfamiliar softness.

"You don't have to leave."

Looking over her shoulder, Winry watched as Roy slowly placed two long-stemmed white flowers- lilies, perhaps- next to the colorful bunch she had left before. He regarded the markers silently, not seeming bothered by her presence behind him. Next, he took a few steps to the left, repeating his actions with a similar flower for Trisha Elric's grave. After a few moments of painfully silent stillness, he turned to face her. He still had one white flower in his hand. He held it toward her with almost a ghost of a smile on his face. "I was planning on leaving this one for you, but since you're here I might as well give it to you."

Spinning around to face him fully, Winry frowned at his extended hand. "Leaving it for me? I'm _not_ dead." The last light of the sun lit her blue eyes to a shining midnight as it dropped below the horizon.

He didn't shrink from her gaze, or retract his offering. "I know that. But that doesn't mean I shouldn't pay my respects to you..."

_...because what I did to you was just as bad as what I did to them._

Those were the unspoken words that were tangible in the air between them. Relaxing from a tense stance she didn't even remember taking, Winry accepted the flower. "I'm not sure if I'm supposed to say 'thank you' or not."

Mustang shrugged, looking at the ground. "So don't."

A strange understanding passed between them as they stood in the newly birthed starlight. In that moment, there was no animosity, no blame, maybe even no guilt. Just two people standing in a graveyard, maybe bruised but no longer bleeding. Life, however, is no fairy tale, and the comfortable atmosphere didn't last long.

Winry glanced down at the white flower, twisting the stem between her fingers. "I really should go." There wasn't anything to add, really. 'Have a nice night, good running into you' just didn't seem to apply to this situation at all.

He appeared next to her as she began to walk away. "Let me walk you back, it's almost completely dark out."

She was afraid he might say something like that.

Glancing at him sidelong, Winry's eyes narrowed slightly. "I know the way back. I really don't need an escort."

Roy continued to look straight ahead as they walked, keeping pace as she sped up her steps. His eyebrow quirked in irritation... or was it amusement? "I'm well aware of that. Unfortunately we're going the same direction, so I'm afraid you're stuck with me."

Of course- she almost groaned- the train station was just a mile or so beyond her house. He was probably catching the last train out of town.

The silence between them only aggravated her discomfort as she walked next to him. Stealing another glance, she saw that his face maintained a carefully neutral expression. Never had Winry known a person who made her feel so... confused.

Roy Mustang- was he a Colonel now, or a General? Not that it mattered. Her feelings were the same whether he was a foot solder or a king. Everything horrible that had happened in her life was directly connected to him. It should be so easy to hate him, to blame him. But she found that she really couldn't. And where did that leave her?

Remembering back to the days before she knew the truth about him, she had really admired him then. From the time he had come to Resembool after Ed and Al's failed transmutation to her first few visits to Central... She had respected him greatly, knowing that he had the Elric's best interest in mind no matter how much Ed refused to admit it. She felt that he was a person to be trusted, a person who deserved respect and maybe even gratitude. Imagine her reaction when _those_ particular illusions were shattered...

She hadn't even had to try to push those feelings from her mind when she initially discovered that Mustang had killed her parents. Any feeling other than loathing swiftly erased itself, to be replaced by purest rage and disbelief that he could live with himself and be such an arrogant individual after what he had done. This understandably lasted for awhile, but as she began to understand his motivation, watched him try even harder to protect the Elric brothers even when they didn't want to be protected, risk his life trying to make things right... those feelings began to return. They were in painful conflict when matched against her losses, which she still felt- at least to some extent- were his fault. Needless to say, seeing him again after his role in sealing her two best friends in the other world made Winry's stomach churn.

In reality she knew he hadn't meant to do any of it, to take away the people she loved. She didn't really blame him for Ed and Al at all, not really, but she couldn't help but resent him for destroying the gate. If only life were simpler so she could hate Roy Mustang the way she was convinced she wanted to...

Winry felt her companion slow beside her, wondering if perhaps he could hear her thoughts. He stared off to the side of the road at a spot, Winry realized, she knew well. Under a growth of meandering vines and hidden from view by thick brush were the blackened remains of the Elric house.

Roy looked deep in thought as he viewed the empty shell of what was once a happy home. Nature had certainly done a good job of reclaiming its territory. Even Winry occasionally forgot to notice the overgrown foundation. She was surprised his one eye way so keen in the growing darkness that he could pick it out. The words she felt herself speaking then were accidental, not meant to be voiced aloud.

"They're really gone."

He jerked his head around, looking startled, as if he had forgotten she was there. He started to say something, but reconsidered at the last moment. His pause was thoughtful. He actually looked somewhat... sad. "Who knows? The Elrics aren't just anybody. If they crossed over once maybe they can do it again." He shrugged once more, looking at her out of the corner of his eye.

"Who knows? _I_ do. They aren't coming back this time. Can't you feel it?"

Roy started walking again, answering with an enigmatic smirk. "Nothing is final. They aren't dead, I can feel that much. Beyond that...?" He trailed off, leaving room for her to fill in the blanks as she pleased.

"Are you just trying to make me feel better because you feel guilty for destroying the gate?" She stood in the middle of the road, angrily staring at the back of his head. His answers sounded like an evasion, an attempt to circumvent reality. He turned abruptly, taking two long steps toward her.

"Should I? I only did what Edward asked of me. I believe I owed him that much." His visible eye was almost a cobalt grey in the reflected darkness. She was drawn into his intent gaze. "Not _everything_ is my fault, Winry."

She gasped at the sound of her name on his lips, whispered like an oath. The tension between them was much thicker than the intervening foot and a half of charged air. For a moment, she wasn't sure which way was up, or why her heart was hammering in her chest.

...Oh, that's right. It was probably because of the _other_ feelings she had for him all those years ago. The ones you could easily classify as a school girl crush. Yes, even _that_ aspect of her former admiration reasserted itself at times. And what words could express how wrong that seemed- being... _attracted_ to her parents' killer? And why, _why_ was she having such thoughts at a moment like this?

By the time she recovered her senses, he was twenty feet away down the road. She jogged to catch up, carefully sealing away even the smallest inclination to have even a mild crush on this man. So busy she was, putting her thoughts in check, that the silent remainder of their walk was over before she knew it. Lights glowed warmly out of the waiting house, now a mere fifty feet away.

At the end of the driveway he stopped, giving a small bow. "I'd best continue on. I don't want to miss the train to Central. Goodnight, Miss Rockbell." His smile didn't meet his eyes, and the thin veil of politeness didn't fool her. She hadn't meant to add more guilt to the burden he was already carrying...

She reached out and grasped his shoulder as he turned away. "I'm sorry."

He didn't look back. "You have nothing to apologize for. Take care of yourself, OK?"

Winry felt the sincerity of his words as she watched him disappear down the shadowy road. "You too," she whispered. For awhile she watched the spot where he had last been visible. Roy Mustang... surely her relationship with this man would always be complicated. But as she heard Grandma Pinako's voice calling from the house, Winry realized she was grateful to the General for making her feel these confused emotions. At times the reality of losing so many friends and loved ones- her parents, Mr. Hughes, Ed and Al- made her feel a little numb inside, just that little bit dead. Like they had each taken a chunk of her with them to the afterlife or wherever it was they had gone, and there was nothing left of her anymore.

If nothing else, the wide-ranging kaleidoscope of things Winry felt when she saw him proved beyond the shadow of a doubt that she was still alive...

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Well, that's the end of chapter one. Sorry if it seemed to move a little slow, but it was necessary to set up Winry's emotional state. In the next installment hopefully we'll catch up with Roy in Central and see what he's up to. What did he think of their encounter? Does he feel guilty about destroying the gate to the other world? And most importantly, is he going out with Riza? Hahaha, I don't know if there's anybody out there interested in reading this, but if you are, please leave a review!


	2. Numb

Hi! As promised, here is chapter two of this story. Hopefully I can keep up my streak and have another update ready soon. I am really having a great time writing this; the characters are taking on a life of their own, and I'm enjoying the process of discovering what they'll do next!

In this chapter we'll meet up with Roy and see what he's been up to. This segment isn't exactly action-packed, but there's a lot of depth to what is going on in this guy's head. I promise chapter three will have a little more spice and action!

Oh, one warning. I'm not sure if all the ranks given for the characters are accurate as of the end of the series. I kind of tried to look it up, but basically I ended up just crossing my fingers and hoping I got them right. Let me know if I screwed any of them up! I get this weird feeling that Armstrong ended up as a Colonel or something.... and was Riza a Lieutenant Colonel? ugh. Oh well, I guess it's not that important!

Disclaimer: I don't own FMA or the characters, but they certainly are fun to play with! I'll just borrow them for awhile...

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Running to Stand Still**

**Chapter 2: Numb**

Glance, sign, stamp, repeat.

This was the mind-numbing rhythm of Roy Mustang's day. The fact that Amestris was now living in a time of relative peace seemed to have little effect on the size of the pile of papers requiring his signature. Payroll, requisitions, commendations, demotions, transfers, requests for leave, duty rosters, field training schedules, personnel actions, medical disclosures... glance it over, sign it, stamp with the official stamp, repeat.

Who would have thought _this_ was what a General did? With Military performance and spending now carefully monitored by the civilian government, the famous Flame Alchemist found himself living the life of a glorified bureaucrat. And yet, he made no noticeable attempt to extract himself from this situation. Why? Roy frowned at an invoice, sighing with resignation for the Nth time. He was a career soldier, and even if there was no war being fought the Military was what he knew best.

It was like he had spent the past several years trudging painfully through Hell, and this desk full of paperwork was his own personal purgatory- a gray and dreary limbo which matched perfectly with the clouds outside his window. Wiggling his taxed fingers in an attempt to uncramp them, Roy heard a sharp and uneven series of knocks on his door. _That would be Havoc._

His guess was right on the mark. Lieutenant Havoc sauntered into the room, uniform shirt slightly rumpled, lesser half of a partly-smoked cigarette at the corner of his mouth. Roy had wondered on occasion during his acquaintance with Jean Havoc how a man who was such a master of the casual slouch had made it through the vigorous slog of basic military training...

The Lieutenant nodded curtly, depositing himself into one of the chairs in front of Roy's desk. "Sir. That Captain from the Central Police Force was here again today. I managed to convince him you were still on leave."

Roy scowled, leaning back in his chair. Ever since the new government had taken over, a few of the local assemblymen had been kicking up a fuss over the size of the Military budget. _There's no war on, _they said, _so why are we wasting our money on the maintenance of a standing army when policemen are what we really need?_

In a way, he understood their reasoning. Economic times weren't exactly the best right now, which naturally caused occasional unrest and a marginal rise in crime. But that didn't mean it was right to take soldiers away from their duties to chase after purse snatchers and direct traffic at rush hour. Nobody under _his_ command would be utilized in any so-called 'for the people' vote-getting scheme, no matter how many politicians tried to bribe him.

"And what did Captain Duluth want _this_ time?"

Havoc snorted derisively. "The same thing he always wants. To remind you that Parliament is drafting a bill requiring the Military to help patrol the streets of Central City and lend manpower to its police force during peacetime. Guess they're running out of volunteers for the 'helping old ladies cross the street' detail." Leaning forward, the Lieutenant's cigarette twitched in a strangely thoughtful manner. "Do you think the bill will ever make it through?"

Roy shrugged. "I doubt it, but who knows? Even if it does, Duluth won't get what he really wants. He's not into the whole 'soldiers as policemen' thing. He wants officers. Loyal pawns straight out of the Academy to prop him up and make him look like someone. His coming here is nothing but a power play."

Standing slowly, Havoc stepped over to the window. "Yeah. You could almost _see_ his palms itching when he saw the new postings. I guess it is somewhat surprising that the Military is still giving out so many commissions."

"We have a lot of reconstruction to oversee, not to mention the border patrols. Parliament makes a very foolish mistake when they assume we do nothing but fight wars."

Hands in the air, Havoc leaned against the windowsill. "Hey, you don't have to tell me. Speaking of reconstruction, any news on how things are going in Lior?"

Smiling furtively, Roy looked at the wall. There were many reasons why the Lieutenant would ask that question, but his money was on one reason in particular-

- because Riza was in Lior.

Given, Armstrong and Fuery were also on assignment there, and it was natural for Havoc to be concerned for the health of their mission. Even after several years of work there was still so much to be done in the city, and the atmosphere was somewhat volatile. But there was something in the man's intonation that made Roy think he was asking a _different_ question.

Sighing, he looked out the window at the clouds, swollen with rain. He was sure it had looked odd to his other subordinates when Hawkeye suddenly volunteered for a one way ticket to the field. For so long, she had never left his side. Always his protector, she had been there even in his darkest hours to help him pick up the pieces and feel human again...

He supposed he had always had feelings for her, but now he understood that he had mistaken their nature. Riza, on the other hand, had been smart enough to figure it out long ago. And despite her feelings for him, she had tried to make him realize that he simply didn't love her that way before he pushed the issue too far.

Unfortunately, Roy was stubborn that way.

It all made such sense in his mind, and he had been sure it was the right thing. After so much struggle, didn't they both deserve it? He had been foolish to think he was the one who could make her happy. The kiss was both initiated and ended by him. His eagerness and expectation had evaporated as his lips crushed against hers, and he realized with terrifying clarity that if he had a sister this was what it would probably feel like to kiss her.

Things were unmistakably clear in Riza's face at that moment. She had loved him, and had also known he didn't love her the same way- even before he knew it himself. She had tried to keep them at their comfortable status quo of commander and loyal right hand, but he had gone and screwed things up by trying to romance her. After the kiss, whenever Riza looked him in the eye he could see just the tiniest flash of pain, which he was responsible for putting there.

The tension between them had made even Sergeant Breda- who was normally the champion of obliviousness in their midst- feel excruciatingly uncomfortable. Though he and Riza were not on _unfriendly_ terms, per se, it seemed their relationship might benefit from a spell of time apart. She had volunteered to go to Lior with Major Armstrong the day before Roy left on his yearly journey to Resembool.

Roy had the entire train ride to the small country town to think about what happened between Hawkeye and himself, eventually coming to the conclusion that their friendship and working relationship was probably salvageable. He was reasonably sure that Riza wouldn't want them to have a permanent falling out over this either. He only hoped whatever apology he could give would be enough, and that she hadn't decided that being by his side was a bad idea. He also hoped it wasn't as selfish as it felt to still want her as his most trusted comrade when he could offer her hardly anything of substance in return. He supposed it was up to Riza to decide.

Distantly, the pensive General realized that Havoc was still waiting for him to answer, regarding him with raised eyebrows. "I spoke with Major Armstrong his morning. He says things are going 'ever so splendidly'."

Havoc replied with practiced disinterest. "Hmm. It's a little lonely around here without the rest of the team. I hope talking to contractors and handing out rations all day doesn't bore them all to death."

"I'm sure that's not all they're doing. That place needs a lot of careful handling after everything that happened there. I'm sure they're all putting their talents to good use."

"Sure." The blond man stretched, raising his eyes to the clock on the opposite wall. "Well, I'm off duty as of three minutes ago. Falman is probably waiting on me. Think we're headed Downtown for awhile if you want to join us."

"No thanks," Roy gestured to the not-so-rapidly dwindling stack of paperwork, "got to finish with these."

"Suit yourself. Goodnight, sir." Havoc flipped a salute and spun on his heels, shutting the door behind him with a click.

Sighing, Roy picked up his pen. He hated having to evade Havoc's line of questioning- he knew the Lieutenant was just concerned for both him and Riza- but it just didn't seem right for a commanding officer to share his... _feelings_... with his subordinates. Reaching dejectedly for the next paper in the pile, he raised his pen to continue the brain-deadening task of giving his authorization. _No wonder most Generals are cranky old bastards..._

As he glanced at the first paper he placed in front of himself, something caught his eye before he was able to proceed. The document appeared to be a contract drafted by the Central Military Hospital for consultation in a highly specialized branch of medicine. He would never have given it a second look if he hadn't noticed who the other party mentioned at the head of the contract was.

This was a contract between the Military and Rockbell Automail.

Roy's pen dropped back onto the desk. He allowed his forehead to drift forward into the cradle of his hands, elbows propped on the desk. He rubbed his aching temples.

_Rockbell..._

He had spent his train ride to Resembool thinking about one woman, only to be tormented through the entire lengthy return journey by the face of another. Roy wasn't sure if it was wrong to think of Winry Rockbell as a woman- no longer a girl- but what else could he do? The smoldering anger in her eyes when she was upset most certainly didn't belong to a child, not to mention the very adult brand of anxiety he had sensed when he had slipped and called her by her first name...

"Shit..." Was he really so morally bankrupt that his meeting with the girl resulted in thoughts like this? Perhaps she was no longer a child, but she was young and vulnerable no matter how well she might seem to hide it. And even worse, he _was_ at least partly responsible for the majority of pain and horror in her life. He had no right whatsoever to admire her beauty, no business noticing even in passing how soft and pink her lips had looked in the moonlight. She was off limits in basically every sense imaginable.

She should hate him. He hoped she did. He certainly deserved it. But part of what really bothered Roy and kept the thought of her running through his mind was that she was so... accepting. Most people, upon meeting the killer of their parents at their graves, would beat said killer to a bloody pulp. He knew the Rockbell girl was capable of doing so- he had seen the knots her wrench left on Fullmetal's head- but she had barely flinched at this presence there.

When he had come upon her, he had really wanted to turn and run. His visits there were bad enough without having her nearby to rip his wounds wide open again. But he had an obligation that couldn't be ignored. His visits to the graveyard in Resembool were a small but importantly symbolic part of his atonement for the crimes he had committed. Perhaps fate or the universe felt things had gotten too easy for him and that was why he had met her there.

Strangely, her presence had been almost a comfort. Feeling her behind him, watching him intently, had made the moment feel more real. And when she argued with him, even over something as stupid as allowing him to escort her home, the hint of sharpness and subdued venom in her words had made him feel _alive_.

Roy had grown accustomed to the numbness, sometimes even preferred it in a selfish way. The buildup of guilt and pain was like a thick shield, insulating him from the world of more colorful human feelings like anger and happiness. The moment of weakness where he had tried to emerge from that shell with Riza had ultimately made him even more convinced that perhaps he wasn't meant to be happy, that maybe this world with no emotion was part of his punishment.

So why did he feel such a thrill when Winry Rockbell looked him in the eye? He had almost been able to smell the combustibility of the air between them. She was the one person who seemed to penetrate his defenses without effort, forcing him to confront his guilt. Her hand on his shoulder had been like fire, even through the heavy material of his uniform. Was that why his thoughts were thrown into chaos by the mere sight of her surname on a sheet of paper? Because she was the one person who made it hard for him to hold the broken pieces of himself totally together?

Maybe he needed to just stop thinking about it. Hadn't Havoc said something about going Downtown? Quickly, Roy picked up his pen and scribbled his signature on the contract, stamping it with unnecessary force and shoving it into the middle of the 'outgoing' pile so that it wouldn't come to his attention again the next day. He hadn't actually read the document, but that was true of at least fifty percent of the papers that crossed his desk.

Donning his overcoat, Roy strode briskly across the office. He was determined to erase Winry Rockbell's emotion-filled gaze from his memory, and fortunately he was well schooled in the methodology of drinking to forget.

The rain and wind blew Roy's hair around his face as he hailed a black taxi cab with one ungloved hand. The sky was rapidly darkening and people bustled to and fro, huddling under umbrellas and dodging between the cars as they queued at the intersection. Settling back onto the cold leather seat, he absently wondered if he would ever be able to lead a normal life. He wasn't even sure if he was strong enough to do it, but he was strangely certain that the Rockbell girl _was_...

...which gave him an even better reason not to think about her. He was poison, and it seemed like even having her in his thoughts could tarnish her in some indirect and totally inappropriate way. And the last thing Winry Rockbell needed was for him to help her any further down the road to misery. After all, hadn't he already done enough?

Roy closed his one good eye, allowing the sound of raindrops on the windshield to lull him. Stormy blue eyes still confronted him on the inside of his head, but that was nothing a bottle of whiskey couldn't fix...

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Whew! Well, that was interesting. Clearly Roy has a few issues. Like the huge guilt complex and the scandalous attraction toward the daughter of people he murdered? Yikes. We'll see how good he is at keeping his, err, feelings to himself once Winry shows up on the scene. He _really_ should have read that contract!

I hope you guys are enjoying this so far. The next chapter should be ridiculously fun to write, as Roy and Winry will meet again. Drop me a review and let me know your thoughts, speculations, concerns, or whatever else floats your boat!


End file.
